


A deal is a deal

by Harrenhal



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Marriage, Winterfell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 08:34:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6975610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harrenhal/pseuds/Harrenhal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the show, after Sansa escapes Ramsey. The synopsis is that Littlefinger demands marriage in exchange for the Vale army to liberate Winterfell, making him Lord of Winterfell. The story itself is just the wedding night. I wanted to illustrate what an incredibly twisted individual Baelish is. English is not my first language and I’m generally not much of a writer, so excuse me if it’s too bad. But I was in the mood to write something and this is my first fanfic ever. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A deal is a deal

A suffocating silence filled the dark bedroom, only weak candlelight suggested some presence of life. The bride and groom stood there like shapes frozen in time, watching each other from a distance what felt like an eternity. Sansa shattered the silence by slowly removing her black wedding dress. First the emerald mockingbird cloak fell onto the rotten wooden floor, then with steady hands she unfastened her corset. Littlefinger’s steely gaze observed her all the meanwhile. At last Sansa pulled the underskirt over her head, revealing her naked body. “Are you happy now?”, she said. Petyr scanned her body, seeing the bruises that sullied her, appearing like mold in the darkness. His eyes locked again with hers. A cold gust of air from outside thrust its way through the crevices of the room. She was challenging him, but a deal was deal. Littlefinger averted his gaze and proceeded on completing the deal on his side. He started with the mockingbird at his neck and worked his way down until he stood there in only his silver tunic. Slowly the groom stepped towards his spiteful bride. The closer he was, the greater he felt the distance grow between them. Petyr then gently cupped her face with his hand. The candlelight reverberated in his dark eyes, mirroring the little amount of warmth present in the room. Sansa didn’t move, but she could feel his hand shake ever so slightly. “You know that I didn’t want it to happen like this”, he said. “I hate you”, Sansa hissed. In response Petyr pulled his hand away and silently looked at her. “You sold me off like one of your whores, now you buy me for the prize of an army.” She knew what he truly wanted, but she wouldn’t grant it to him. The contract didn’t include this minor detail. After a moment of silence Littlefinger reached for her hands and calmly guided them towards his chest, feeling her twitch ever so slightly in disgust. Her hands unfastened the knots on his tunic, revealing a long ugly scar on his bared chest. Sansa couldn’t help but stare at it. “I believe you are already familiar with the story…”, Littlefinger said with a crooked smile. She did hear the story from her jealous aunt, but it was a different thing to see it in person. “Yes, you dueled for the hand of my mother. And lost.”, she said bluntly. Littlefinger chuckled at this remark. The tunic slid off his shoulders and he grabbed Sansa at the waist pushing her towards the bed. His eyes turned a chillingly steely color, with the candlelight dancing like wildfire in them. Last time Sansa encountered that expression, it was onboard his ship on its way to the Vale. This was not the Petyr who kissed her in the snow, it was exclusively Littlefinger taking what he wants without asking for permission. But this time he didn’t sugarcoat his intentions. And it scared her. As she sat down on the bed she whimpered “Wait, Petyr…” The tone of her voice stopped him in his tracks and he sat down next to her. Silence overcoming them once again. To Sansa it was even more unsettling then before. Petyr gently got hold of her hand. “I promise, I will keep you safe.” The dripping hypocrisy of the statement filled Sansa once again with rage. But she preferred him like that over cold Littlefinger and decided to mask her feelings. While Petyr looked at her the candlelight formed a golden aura around her body, accentuating her fiery red hair he loved so dearly. He slowly kissed her hand, the other then moved to cup her face. Sansa was frozen, as he stroked her cheek. She decided she had no choice other than to play his game, and in this game everyone is a kaleidoscope of hollow shells waiting to be filled with meaning. Petyr’s eyes turned a soft green that made him appear younger when she finally looked at him. He moved in to kiss her. She thought, she might as well enjoy this game.


End file.
